


Shattered Psyche

by Tgaret990



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: A small obsession with shattered glass, And he's looking back on where it all went wrong, And tries to tell himself that everything he's done has been worth it, Angst, Character Study, Dark, He knows he's not a good person but there's still a shred of good in him somewhere, Introspection, Kenny blames himself for going darkside, Kenny does and doesn't want to admit it, Kenny hates himself, Like the self hate is on another level, Losing who you are, Masochism in a way?, Reflecting on the Lights Out match from Full Gear, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Who needs friends?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tgaret990/pseuds/Tgaret990
Summary: Kenny reflects on his time in AEW, who he was and what he has become, the night of Revolution. He's in a dark place, one that he doesn't see himself getting out of. One that he doesn't really want to get out of.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Shattered Psyche

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ectocooler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectocooler/gifts).



Shattered Psyche

A/N: Hahaha. I'm _totally_ not nervous that this doesn't make any sense before I gift it. Not at all. *nervous laughter* Have you ever read an article with such a unique and deep perspective on things that it made you completely re-examine everything you thought you knew about the topic discussed? Inspired by ectocooler’s outstanding article that you can find here: [ https://www.comicsxf.com/2021/03/03/lights-out-moxley-and-omegas-beautiful-wrestling-horror-story/ ](https://www.comicsxf.com/2021/03/03/lights-out-moxley-and-omegas-beautiful-wrestling-horror-story/)

You’re absolutely fucking brilliant, my friend, and I don’t tell you that enough. Thank you for inspiring this and helping me see the ongoing story in a new light. <3 

  
  


Shattered glass. It shouldn’t make Kenny smirk in a sick and twisted sense of bittersweet glee, but it does. It was a reminder, a reminder of when he’d had his epiphany. That night of violence, of agony and limits pushed far beyond what should be humanly possible. That night of realization that he had been his own worst enemy the entire time, that he’d had it all wrong from the start. That night of unravelling and the brief moments of bliss, of freedom. At the time, the Lights Out Deathmatch was something completely out of his comfort zone, something he’d been fairly unfamiliar with. He had gone in with the intention of beating Mox at his own game and tapping into that dark and unpleasant part of himself he’d locked away for what he’d told himself had been for his own good. But he hadn’t just tapped into it. He’d become **consumed** by it.

And he didn’t want to go back.

Pain. Fighting pain with pain. What could possibly go wrong?

Kenny knew that he was broken the moment he’d touched back down in the US in early January 2019. He had left behind so much that made his life meaningful, that gave him purpose, that made living worth it, that made his heart race with excitement and his smile reach his eyes. He was on top of the world. He’d had everything he’d ever wanted, and things beyond his wildest dreams. _People_ beyond his wildest dreams.

And yet…

There was this strange hollowness in him. Isn’t this what he’d wanted? Hadn’t he put so much thought and time into making this decision? Maybe it was just missing the place he used to call home? Yeah. That sounded right. He’d made so many memories there. He was sure when he was more settled in and got into the groove of things with AEW that feeling would subside, become a wistful smile instead of the sleepless nights and empty stares that they were at the time.

But the hollowness only persisted and grew. Then came the self doubt. The fear. The insecurity. The feeling of inadequacy. The feeling of failure. His heart felt hollow and his soul broke a bit more each day. He felt humiliated, underestimated. Overlook and underappreciated. He tried not to let them gnaw at his conscience, which he felt slowly slipping away as well. He tried not to let the increasingly hopeless thoughts and emotions eat away at him with every breath, every waking and sleeping moment. But what else could he do? Hadn’t he only proved those people right? Hadn’t he lived up to their sad and pitiful expectations?

He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t where he needed to be. He’d lost his killer instinct, his spark. The title of Best Wrestler in the World was no longer almost unanimously associated with him. Where was his dominant reign over this company he’d helped build from the ground up? Where was the man who annihilated his competition, who people couldn’t help but give their undivided attention to whenever he walked into the room? Where was the man who did whatever it took to make it to the top and take what was rightfully his? Where was The Cleaner? Where was the Best Bout Machine? Where was the **real** Kenny Omega?

The real Kenny…

The real Kenny, huh?

Kenny didn’t know who he was anymore. He was a broken shell of the person he used to be. And even that felt like a faded and distant memory. Memories of gold, of cherry blossoms and starry skies. Memories of long road trips and bus rides, of after show dinners and room service. Memories of constant adoration and praise and affirmation. All of it felt like a dream, one that he’d been rudely awakened from before he could ever fully grasp it. It had left him with almost nothing. Friends could only do so much, and even then they couldn’t even begin to comprehend his never ending internal struggles. Sometimes they even contributed to them seemingly without realizing it.

Their words burned, their jabs and unintended insults stabbed, their nonchalant responses to his attempted cries for help ripped him to shreds. They said they would always be there for him. Yet even though they were physically there they didn’t truly help him at all. When he showed clear signs of spiraling, of going down a dark path, where were they? When his thoughts were drowned out by every voice telling him he would never live up to the hype and would only disappoint, where were they to reassure and support him? When something went wrong for them and he found himself in a situation that they weren’t aware of, why did they lash out and blame him instead of just asking where he was when they needed him? When and why had their presences grown to be a weight that had slowly caved his chest in, crushed the air out of his lungs, snuffed out what little flame of good he had left, instead of a light to guide him through the darkness that was currently swallowing him whole?

And when he **really** thought back on it…

Why did he continue to cling to something—to some **one** , when every time he called upon their memory he found himself staring up at the lights in defeat?

  
  
He looked at the shattered remains of the glass he’d been drinking diet coke out of. He remembered how good it felt to hear Moxley scream, to see him bleed and writhe in pain on the mat. It was cathartic. It was something he didn’t know he’d needed until the addicting adrenaline had surged through his entire body and clouded his mind. Barbed wire, mouse traps, chairs and chains and shards of glass…

A phoenix thought to be rising from the ashes of destruction, only to crash and burn once more in the face of it. It was in that moment, when the Phoenix Splash had failed him yet again, when he reached for that connection, that hope, that golden light inside of him, and wound up drilled into the unforgiving wooden planks of the ring, that he realized. It was in that moment Kenny discovered that he had done this to himself.

Friends come and go, Don had said to him once. “Friends”. Had he ever really had true friends to begin with? A small voice in the back of his mind seemed to answer in a desperate cry, but most of the words were too indistinct to understand. _But Adam…_ Adam Page had been his friend once. Or, at least, Kenny thought so at first. The more he got to know him, the more Kenny wanted to distance himself. Adam reminded him too much of how he’d been before, when he was young and hungry and eager to prove himself, but stuck in the shadows of those around him. Kenny had done something about it back then, and it had paid off massively in the end. But Adam was wallowing and letting it all get to him, and it made Kenny both sad and sick to see the man at his worst. _The Bucks. They were family._ That much he could discern. But… Families fell out with each other sometimes, loved each other from afar when things got bad. He reasoned with himself that that’s what he was doing, and he could _almost_ convince himself that was true if not for the way his stomach tied itself into knots at the very thought. He tried to push that feeling aside. It was fine. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need family. He didn’t need anyone.

Don was useful, did all of the heavy lifting behind the scenes so Kenny could take it just a little bit easier. Don did a lot of the talking, and like the cliché villain trope revealed all of his plans to Kenny without even having to be asked. He knew Don only had his own interests at heart. He didn’t really care about Kenny, only if Kenny could bring him more success. The minute Kenny failed him he would turn on him without a single regret or shred of remorse. Kenny knew this, but he enjoyed playing along. It let him see how Don’s mind worked, how he’d respond to certain things, what was priority and what wouldn’t even register on his radar. Kenny had his own plans for Don. He knew he couldn’t reign forever, so when the time was near for him to step down from his thrown Don would be the first person to suffer because of it.

Treating him like a child, acting as if he knew best and that Kenny would be totally lost without his “guidance”, his “wisdom”. Kenny wasn’t an idiot. He could make his own decisions and analyze every angle of a situation perfectly fine. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he was incompetent. He didn’t like everything that Don did, didn’t agree with all of his methods, but what he **did** like was that Don was ruthless. He cut ties when needed, and rarely had lines he wouldn’t cross. Kenny’s mistake before was thinking he needed to be a certain way, be the good guy, the noble hero of the story, the one who did things the _right way_ . That had gotten him nowhere. Freeing himself of those restrictions had gotten him **everything**.

He didn’t need to hold onto the things that made him _good_ . There was only so much one could accomplish with that way of thinking. The “whatever it takes” approach made his possibilities endless. It wasn’t really breaking the rules if the referee didn’t see it. It wasn’t being a villain as much as it was him firmly seizing control of his career for the first time in two years. He wasn’t the villain of this story, but neither was he a victim. He didn’t want sympathy for his time spent falling apart. It was his own fault he was now moving through life with a shattered psyche. He’d been so in his head that it was far too late when he realized he couldn’t handle things, that he was overwhelmed and losing what little identity he had left. He would take responsibility for that. But never again. He didn’t need to hold onto the things that made him good. He needed to embrace the things that would get the job done. If that meant turning his back on the things and people he once knew, drowning in the bitterness and anger and anguish and self hate and pride and gluttony and the insatiable **need** to be the best, then so be it.

Was it self discovery? Introspection? Kenny losing his mind if he hadn’t already? He didn’t quite know. All he did know was that the droplet of blood at the tip of his finger from the glass made something in him stir, a mixture of excited anticipation and a strange sense of clarity. His match was soon. An exploding barbed wire death match. So many opportunities to make Mox suffer, for him to suffer as well. Pain fighting pain. Moxley’s pain from all of the betrayals in his past, the hell he’d lived through before he’d found hope in his life. Kenny’s pain from all the things and people that he’d lost, including himself. The pain from barbed wire digging and tearing into flesh as rivulets of blood ran down his sweaty skin and painted the mat a deep crimson. The pain from burns as small explosions from landmines sent shockwaves of white hot pain through his body each time. The pain that will come for one of them when they realize they were never enough as they stare blankly at the ceiling after the bell rings to end the match.

This was Mox’s wheelhouse. This was the environment that he thrived in, reveled in. Mox surely thought he had the match won before it even started. He was one tough son of a bitch that refused to stay down. Kenny would give him that. The title as well as their pride was on the line. And the advantage Kenny had this time? There was nothing he wouldn’t do to win, and nothing holding him back. There wasn’t going to be any hesitation to do whatever it took to get his hand raised high with that title still around his waist by the end of it all, and nostalgia was no longer a deciding factor. Never again. He didn’t care what he had to endure. He deserved every bit of punishment coming his way and then some, anyway. He almost looked forward to it.

  
  
The never ending cycle of self hatred fueled him, kept him going. As happy and accomplished as may have seemed on the surface, he could hardly look in the mirror these days. The part of him that wanted to be good would make itself known in rare moments, and it would become unbearable. But when he recovered, he reminded himself why he was doing this, why he had done things the way he had. He wasn’t a good person. He didn’t like who he was. But he finally had the success, the **true** success, he’d been missing since he’d arrived in AEW. He’d finally proven all of those doubters wrong. He’d finally gotten back so much of what he’d lost after leaving Japan. That’s what made the suffering worth it, he reasoned with himself. It was all worth it. It had to be. And it was…

...Wasn’t it?

Kenny found himself stood by the curtain a few minutes before his match. His aviators hid the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his stormy blue eyes. For a brief moment, he was hit with a sense of loss. Matt and Nick would usually be in his corner for huge, high stakes matches like this, or at least would be there in some capacity. The Elite would be out at the end of the match to help him celebrate his victory, or help him to the back with a strong and sure embrace in defeat. He wouldn’t have that tonight. He would have a snake, a con man, in his corner. Con Callis had a nice ring to it, made his lips quirk upward in amusement before it was gone as fast as it had appeared. He was essentially on his own, the one thing he never wanted to experience again.

But he could win this. He **would** win this. Then they’d all see. Everyone would see that he was worthy, more than enough, better than they could have ever asked for. They’d see he was in the right, that he was the best. And once Mox was out of the way, who could possibly challenge him, be even an inkling of a threat to him? No one immediately came to mind. He’d have a nice, long reign. And maybe, when all this Mox business was over and done with, when his time with the title was over in the distant future, when Don was finally out of his hair… He could find himself again.

His music hit. It was time.

  
  
Kenny took a deep breath, focused, determined. His aura was cold, merciless, almost unhinged as he walked down the ramp with an almost snarl. The barbed wire ripping his skin open as he entered the ring barely registered in his mind. He was completely focused on Mox, who seemed a bit shocked at the state Kenny was in. **_Good._ ** He had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Kenny gave him a bone chilling grin. The bell rang, and Kenny let go of whatever was left of who he once was.


End file.
